Warsaw, 21 February 1950. Janusz Gumkowski, acting as a member of the Main Commission for the Investigation of German Crimes in Poland, interviewed the person named below, who testified as follows:
| Name and surname | Franciszka Stępień, née Lis |
| Date and place of birth | 2 March 1907, Nieznanowice, Włoszczowa county |
| Parents’ names | Kazimierz and Helena, née Król |
| Father’s occupation | laborer |
| Citizenship and nationality | Polish |
| Religion | Roman Catholic |
| Education | 4 classes of elementary school |
| Occupation | caretaker |
| Place of residence | Warsaw, Krakowskie Przedmieście Street 6, flat 12 |
| Criminal record | none |
When the Warsaw Uprising broke out, I was in my house at Krakowskie Przedmieście Street 6. On 1 August 1944 the Germans ordered us to close the gate. Our house was a point of refuge for both its residents and people whom the outbreak of the Uprising had taken by surprise in the streets nearby. On the second day of the Uprising a university building adjacent to the second courtyard of our house caught fire. The house on the other side of the courtyard, at Oboźna Street 10, was also ablaze. The residents of both these houses managed to get through to our property using holes smashed in the walls. We all stayed in the basements of our house. On 5 August, a Saturday, at around 3.00 or 4.00 p.m. the Germans started hammering on the gate. At the time I was making lunch in the staffroom. Since my husband, the caretaker of the house, was in the second courtyard, I ran there with my son, Tadeusz, to find him. By then there were no people in the basements. I saw that there were Germans in the basement corridors. They threw grenades into the basements, thus setting fire to the house. They did not notice us, and so we went out into the courtyard. The Germans – “Ukrainians” – led us through the gate into the street. At the Kopernik monument I noticed my husband standing in a group of people. The Germans released mothers with children and the elderly and sent them off in the direction of Królewska Street.
I did not hear about any old people being left in any of the burning houses.
Initially, the Germans separated me from my thirteen-year-old son, and one of the “Ukrainians” even hit me with the butt of his rifle when I tried to walk up to the child. Later, however, some German officer ordered me and my son to proceed in the direction of Królewska Street. From there the Germans led us to the house at no. 7 or 9 Królewska Street, where we remained for two days – just mothers, children, and the elderly. On the second day, that is 8 August, at around 10.00 p.m. the Germans set fire to the house in which we were staying, and drove all of us on foot to Piłsudskiego Square, and from there to the Saski Garden. They ordered us to stay the night there. We were treated as hostages, whom the Germans were to shoot if the insurgents undertook any offensive operations. In the morning, at around 10.00 a.m., they led us to Mirowskie Market. They left all the men who were walking with us between the market halls. When I walked past them, I saw that they were kneeling with their arms raised. They led us to St. Charles Borromeo’s Church at Chłodna Street, and from there – on the next day – to the Western Railway Station, where a train took us to Pruszków.
Apparently, as I was informed by one Roman Górecki (currently residing at Krakowskie Przedmieście Street 6, flat 10), the Germans executed many of the men from our group at the Mirowskie Market, or rather between the market halls.
While in Pruszków I learned that the group of people amongst whom my husband had found himself, comprising men and childless women, was used by the Nazis as a human shield for their tanks. Since then I have not received any information concerning my husband, Stanisław.
At this point the report was brought to a close and read out.